Do I go to Starbucks today, or do I lounge in this house,
and do nothing for an entire day.
This is only a question which would appear on a Sunday.
Instead of working, or lounging around,
I want a Sunday kind of love.
The love many claim to have on a Sunday.
Too bad love doesn’t apply to me, and I am living with my mother.
A Sunday kind of love consists of eggs, bacon, and pancakes
coffee of course
and the warmth from the sheets transcends into the room,
coming from a peculiar source,
Does a Sunday kind of love, come from a Saturday?
A Saturday spent at a dive bar, or a house party
where the host falls asleep.
Funny story, I used to go to this guys house,
alot, But he would always go to bed before
I could ever sneak in a kiss.
He has a nice record collection though,
the only one,